


new guy

by caermit67



Category: Apex Legends (Video Games)
Genre: Banter, Canon-Typical Violence, M/M, Resolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-09
Updated: 2020-02-09
Packaged: 2021-02-28 04:02:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22638094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caermit67/pseuds/caermit67
Summary: Mirage likes the new guy.
Relationships: Crypto | Park Tae Joon/Mirage | Elliott Witt
Comments: 1
Kudos: 99





	new guy

**Author's Note:**

> (i wrote this when season 3 first dropped n then promptly forgot it existed. enjoy)

Okay, so, maybe Elliott likes the new guy.

The second game in a row that Mirage’s name flashes right next to Crypto’s, he’s actually pretty siked. Not that it was any fault of his own- really just bad luck- but he’d been on a hot losing streak until the game before. He’d only won one out of six games the whole second season, and only the very first. People had started dreading having him on their team. 

Ajay hadn’t said it, since she’s a humanitarian or something and probably felt bad for him, but he could tell she hadn’t been jazzed to be on a team with him and the new guy too. New guys are unpredictable, and Mirage had become anything but.

And yet, hell, something about the bitter spite he felt towards the kid made his skin crawl with competitiveness. Suddenly he was pulling these moves out of nowhere that were catching even him off guard. He’d pulled down a solid 10 kills that match, only outpaced by Crypto himself at a ridiculous 20. 20 kills! That’s a third of the freaking competitors!

Mirage had spent a night high on success, flirting with everyone who bought him a drink and buying drinks for those who didn’t. Ajay had tagged along for the ride, and some of the other legends who had been promised a round on Elliott, but not Crypto. 

Crypto had vanished from sight the second the dropship landed. 

Which was whatever, man. He’d spent the whole first season trying (and failing) to trick Bloodhound into going out for drinks with him, and eventually he had learned his lesson in regards to antisocial teammates. Somewhat. Not really. Who was he kidding, if he had been able to find the guy, he’d probably have asked Crypto out too. 

So yeah. The dropship ride had been quiet. Second game is usually pretty tense. It determines whether or not the first game’s winners are dominating this season, or just got lucky. He’d been looking over at Crypto’s back as he typed away at his computer, half listening to Octane tell a story, and watched him turn to look at the flashing screens as they displayed the teams for game two. Mirage, Crypto, Gibraltar. The kid nodded, completely unsurprised, and turned back to power down his desktop. 

Mirage hops to his feet, excited. “Alright! Now this is a team!”

“Don’t go getting too excited now,” Makoa chides him, pushing himself off the couch he’d claimed months ago for his own, “You’re flying a little close to the sun there, Icarus.” 

“Yeah, well, I’m going to fly right into the -some- victory! Into victory! That’s what I meant.” 

Crypto doesn’t quip back, performing one last function at light speed before shutting the software down and speed-jogging to the platform. Mirage waves gloatingly to Ajay as they descend, who was stuck on a team with Caustic and a rando. Or well, a different rando. From the way Crypto had set up in his bunk on the ship, he seemed to have planned to stick around. 

The four teams dropping from this ship all watch the arena fly by underneath them, appraising the battlefield for the locations they’d noticed last match. Crypto’s in the middle, so etiquette says he’s the jumpmaster. That doesn't stop Caustic and the rando abandoning Lifeline the second the announcer voice sounds, and he gives her a cheeky thumbs up when she turns to deadpan him in exasperation. He can see the trails of other competitors too, from one of the other dropships. 

“Poor girl,” Gibraltar shouts, over the roaring of the wind, “No one makes it far without a team watching their back.” 

“Where are we dropping, kid?” Mirage nags at Crypto, who’s yet to make a suggestion. Gibraltar taps on his wrist-map, pinging a location, but Crypto shakes his head. 

“Patience, old man,” Crypto mumbles under the wind, only audible because of their comms. 

“Oh c’mon!” Mirage shouts, though he’s barely annoyed, “Gibby’s right there! Don’t hurt the big guy’s feelings, he’s just a little slower.” 

Gibraltar fixes him with a smirk. “Just for that, you don’t get my shields.” 

“Dropping in 3,” Crypto warns them, pinging a location at the very edge of the map finally and readying himself for the launch. 

“You don’t mean that, bro,” Mirage laughs, but his chuckles are whipped away in the wind when his teammates turn to face the ledge, crouching down. “Guys?” Mirage leans over Crypto to try and tap Gibby on the shoulder, but before he can he’s being yanked from his center of gravity and hurled off the platform. Damn, that guy’s touchy about his personal space. 

“Why are we here?” Mirage asks, a little irritated once they’ve got as kitted out as their going to get in this one location and are itching to make a break for the circle. 

Crypto doesn’t respond right away, unplugging something from the survey beacon and pocketing it before Elliott can get a good look. “Circle’s moving,” Makoa calls out from under their platform, getting antsy as the storm approaches.

“As much as you’ve tried to sabotage me by dropping us in this shithole, you’re still going to lose, kid.” Mirage cocks his gun for the effect, and Crypto turns to entertain his banter for a moment with a quirked brow. “Last time was just beginners luck, I hope you know I’ve got twenty-one bullets with your names on them.”

Crypto smirks, “You’re going to shoot me twenty-one times?” 

“What?” Mirage thinks over what he said, “Wait, no, I meant- I’m going to get more kills then you, brat.” Gibraltar calls out somewhere below them and Crypto gets moving, brushing past Elliott’s chest. “You know what I mean!” Mirage calls after him, jogging to catch up. 

Time flies. It’s an exhausting match, sprinting to catch up with each closing ring, never in the position of advantage. Something about that challenge makes it fun, though, bouncing between covers as his clones fan out over the hill. Gibraltar being the perfect distraction he is, crowd controlling with his bombardments and shield dome, slowly pushing their competition away from points of advantage. Mirage takes shots and downs any stragglers trying to push back, effectively impossible to flank when you have no clue where the fuck he could be. 

Crypto almost always gets the final kill, swooping in at the perfect moment of vulnerability and wiping the teams, but Mirage is man enough to bully him for kill-stealing and let sleeping dogs lie. The smirks he wrings out of the kid are enough reward, as well as the attention of dozens of live cams following his back. Of course they’re watching him - he’s the most dramatic and entertaining bastard in the arena right now. He’s at his peak. 

And he’s downed for the final moments of the match. Fucking damnit. 

These clips - the final teams, the final kills - they’re the clips that get floated around talk shows for the season. Mirage deadpans the single livecam floating by his side, silently recording him panting with a hand clutching the hole in his gut. He’s aware the only thing keeping some very integral parts of his gastrointestinal system from leaking out is the pressure he’s keeping on the wound, but there’s not much he can do but pray Crypto finishes this match quickly. 

Crypto and Gibraltar, that is. Totally wasn’t just thinking about the kid. Totally. 

“W…. Wow. Is-sn’t thhs a bummer,” Mirage quips to the camera, flashing his signature roguish grin tainted by blood. He’d mostly stopped coughing, but his voice was low and raspy from the damage to his throat. The camera got a little closer, and Elliott nearly giggled. Oh boy, he should probably shut up. 

“Bet the…. the. the kid.. ‘rypto,” He mumbles, because shutting up has never been a talent of his, “Bet ‘rypt’s givin ‘em hell. That kid… he shoots…” Mirage sucks his teeth and whines a little, deep in his throat, the pain become too much to bare, “he - ah fuck, oh - he, uh… shoots good… something…” Mirage has to throw his head back, his hands no longer agreeing to hold his stomach tight enough to stay lucid. 

His hand brushes the injection gun at his side, but he knows he would never have the strength to pull the trigger. The adrenaline and morphine concoction that gets Legends back on their feet must be held down for an extended period of time before the medicine releases, far longer than injured fingers have strength for. He needs a teammate, the vials of wound-stitching fluid you get from the med kits scattered around, some more light ammo and then maybe a glass of spiced rum. Preferably in that order. 

He says as such to the television drone, which silently zooms in on his pained expression and gushing wounds. “Are you even paying attention to me?” He asks the robot, slightly offended, but even as it flickers it’s lens to his face it gives no response. “Oh- oh I-” He needs to fucking stop, every word hurts to much but when it hurts he gasps and when he gasps it hurts and- “I-I… I… What was I saying?” 

The robot doesn’t beep. No interference. 

Mirage points a finger gun at it. “Right- you’re a consummate professional. You know, you remind me a lot of a kid I know. His name is Crypto. I’ve lost a lot of blood at this point. I don’t know if I’m actually speaking or I just think I am. Kid could probably get it though.” 

“How sweet,” He hears a voice say, distantly, and someone blurrily shaped like a human wearing a lot of bright green approaches him, splashing in the puddles of runoff under the bridge. Mirage tries to feel where the parts of him that are in water stop and the unsubmerged parts begin but he can’t, can’t feel a goddamn thing anymore, can’t move anything but his tongue. 

“I could totally make out still,” he says, unprompted, and Crypto pauses in his movement for a second before resuming. Elliott can feel very distantly pressure on his skin as the kid tries to find his injection gun. “I doubt there was a ‘still’ on the table in the first place, old man.” 

“You know, you talk big shit like you hate me, but we work well together, kid. You can’t deny that. And if you really hated me, you wouldn’t keep calling me my nickname, huh? And you know what-” 

“Mirage,” Crypto interrupts him, and Elliot feels his heart swell (not literally, he doesn’t think there’s enough blood in his system to do anything but vaguely ache anymore), “Stop talking. You’re wasting energy and I can’t understand a word you’re saying.” 

“Oh,” Mirage says. “Well then,” he mutters, finally closing his eyes. 

“...ge? Mira….. do….. ‘re you doing?.... eriously going to die out of spite?” 

Mirage smiles to himself as he lets go. If there’s anything the kid needs to learn about him, is that he’d do anything to take a joke too far. 

He’s regretting his choice when he wakes up the next morning having missed celebratory drinks.   
Mirage, looking for someone to bother for a drink or two, sets out to find a fellow Legend. The gym is the first logical place to look, but the only contestant from his dropship there is Bangalore, and the way she’s beating the crap out of that punching bag makes Elliott think she’d maybe rather it were the champions. Namely, himself. 

His exit is swift. 

When the dropships land back home at the Apex Games buildings, they’re accessible still, connected by hallway straight into the interiors of the ships. Most folks have apartments in the city, but technically Legends have 24/7 access to their dorms on the ship, and some have used them as homes in the past. If not homes, then labs, or gaming dens, or “place to store all your animal cages”. 

So, if you’re looking for Legends in the Apex Games building, maybe particularly a Legend who hasn’t been in town for very long and might not have an apartment, maybe one with a penchant for computer programming and abrasive neon green, then the dorms would probably be the best place to look. 

Mirage opens the rising door with a press of a button, ducking under with a flip of his hair. The screen doors to everyone’s dorms are closed, the glass on some set to blacked out and others illuminated by the light of the hallway. 

Mirage himself leaves his own dorm light on. Most of the time he’s got the glass divide pulled up and people come and go as they please, claiming his couches as mostly communal. 

Behind the holo-blackened glass, he can’t tell if the lights are on. Still, he bangs on the glass a couple times and shouts, “Let me in kid, it’s the old man!”

Elliott waits a minute, and kicks off the wall where he was leaning, getting up to leave. He only makes it a couple steps down the hallway before he hears a door open behind him, and spins around. Crypto furrows his brow until he catches sight of Mirage and his face relaxes, taking a hand off the door. 

“So you lived,” Crypto stands awkwardly in his doorway, looking Mirage up and down. 

“Please, you can’t kill me that easy,” Elliott brushes him off smugly, cocking a hip and smirking. “How was the afterparty, huh? What’d I miss?” 

Crypto shrugs, and Mirage notices he’s not wearing the big coat. Mirage can see the muscles in his arms shift and move, under that black tank top, all lean muscles. His eyes dart back up to his face, and watches Crypto catch him in the act. 

Mirage shoots him a confident grin. “You should go without the coat more often, kid. Maybe one day you’ll have as many cameras following you in the arena as I do.” Mirage props himself up against the doorframe, leaning dangerously close to Crypto’s personal space with a leer. 

To his surprise, Crypto doesn’t follow the usual punchline of this type of conversation (slamming the door in his face). The kid stays right where he is, arms by his side, watching Mirage with the faintest of smirks. “Only one of us ended up in the final clips.”

“I’m pretty sure my dramatic death made at least a couple tv screens,” Mirage jokes back.

Crypto rolls his eyes and clicks his tongue. “You’re an idiot.” 

“When did I get downgraded from old man to idiot?” Elliott asks with a smile, and Crypto just shakes his head. “What was your question?” The hacker asks, softly. 

Mirage smiles back. “How was drinks last night?” he replies, just as soft. 

Crypto tuts, “I didn’t go to the party. Gibraltar invited me but I declined.”

“Awesome!” Mirage cheers. Crypto’s eyes widen in confusion as Elliott goes back to standing on his own two feet. “We both didn’t get a chance to celebrate two-timing as champion! We should go out drinking together, hey bud?” 

“Don’t call me bud,” Crypto protests, but deliberates on the offer. “That’s not really my thing.” 

“Don’t worry,” Mirage flicks his hair back, “If any groupies come begging, I’ll handle the signatures.” 

Crypto doesn’t know exactly what chain of mistakes led him to, ten minutes later, in the backseat of a self driving cab with a lapful of mirage enthusiastically biting his neck.

(He supposed he invited it by hacking the randomized team generator to put him in a squad with the trickster second match, but he had reasoned that away as risk minimization. The more hot air Mirage breathed on his neck, the harder it became to use reason at all). 

He grabs Mirage’s thighs with his hands and presses them down, grounding him against his own body before he drags his palms back to Mirage’s ass and tugs him forward, crotch flush against his stomach. Mirage hadn’t bothered with all the padding, which meant when Elliot’s core trembles against Crypto, he can fucking feel it. He tilts his head away and Mirage detaches from his hickey with a feral grin.

“No kissing,” Crypto tells him, firm and if Elliot didn’t know better from the tent in the hacker’s pants that he’s grinding down on in slow, maddening circles, he’d say the kid is entirely unaffected. Elliot himself is a mess, bright red, panting, unable to stop grinning. 

“Better than any victory,” Mirage quips. It’s the last coherent thing he says for a while.


End file.
